Jane’s cheeks bloomed pink, but she maintained her serene composure. “Mama, pray do not embarrass us before we have even met the gentleman.”
Elizabeth smiled at her sister’s gentle reproof. Dear Jane possessed the patience of a saint when dealing with their mother’s matrimonial schemes, though Elizabeth suspected her own tolerance had worn considerably thinner over the years.
“Mr Bennet,” Mrs Bennet continued, turning her attention to her husband with renewed determination, “you must visit Netherfield today. This very morning, in fact. We cannot delay when such an opportunity presents itself.”
“Must I, indeed?” Mr Bennet folded his paper with deliberate slowness. “And what pressing business am I to conduct with this paragon of eligible bachelors?”
“Why, to welcome him to the neighbourhood, naturally! It is only proper that we should be among the first to pay our respects.”
Elizabeth bit back a laugh at her father’s theatrical sigh. The ritual of pursuit that followed any new arrival had becomeas predictable as the changing seasons, though she could not fault her mother’s determination. With five unmarried daughters and an entailed estate, Mrs Bennet’s concerns were not entirely without merit.
“Very well,” Mr Bennet conceded, rising from his chair with exaggerated reluctance. “I shall sacrifice myself upon the altar of neighbourly duty. Elizabeth, perhaps you would care to accompany your aging father on this momentous expedition?”
“Mr Bennet!” Mrs Bennet protested. “Elizabeth cannot possibly—”
“On the contrary,” Elizabeth interrupted, setting aside her needlework with relief, “I should be delighted to escape this morning’s domestic tranquillity.”
Lydia’s lower lip protruded in a pout that had once charmed their father but now merely emphasized her seventeen years. “It is hardly fair that Lizzy should have the first opportunity to charm Mr Bingley.”
“I have no intention of charming anyone,” Elizabeth replied with some tartness. “I merely wish to satisfy my curiosity regarding our new neighbour.”
“Mark my words,” Kitty whispered loudly to Lydia, “she will set her cap at him immediately. Lizzy always was clever about such things.”
Elizabeth chose to ignore this observation, though she caught her father’s amused expression as they prepared for departure. The morning had grown warm despite September’s advance, and she welcomed the prospect of fresh air and escape from her sisters’ romantic speculations.
***
The carriage ride to Netherfield proved mercifully brief, though Mr Bennet entertained himself by composing increasingly elaborate compliments to bestow upon their new neighbour. “Perhaps I shall praise his excellent judgement in selecting our county for residence. Or better still, I might enquire whether he requires instruction in the art of wife-hunting, given his bachelor status.”
“Papa, you are incorrigible,” Elizabeth laughed, though she felt a flutter of nervousness as Netherfield’s elegant facade came into view.
The house itself impressed her more than she had anticipated. Unlike Longbourn’s comfortable shabbiness, Netherfield spoke of careful maintenance and generous finances. The grounds were immaculate, the windows gleaming, and the entrance hall they were shown into possessed the polished grandeur of new money applied with taste.
Mr Bingley himself exceeded even her mother’s enthusiastic descriptions. He greeted them with interest and warmth, his smile reaching his eyes in a manner that suggested sincerity rather than mere politeness. His conversation flowed easily, free from the studied formality Elizabeth had expected from a gentleman of his circumstances.
“Mr Bennet, Miss Bennet,” he said, bowing with precisely the correct degree of deference, “what a pleasure to receive neighbours so quickly! I confess myself quite overwhelmed by the kindness of Hertfordshire society.”
Elizabeth studied him as he conversed with her father about the estate’s condition and his plans for residence. He possessed an open countenance and ready laugh, though she detected a certain eagerness to please that suggested inexperience rather than calculation. Still, his obvious goodnature made it impossible to dislike him, even if she suspected Jane’s gentle disposition might suit him better than her own more satirical temperament.
“I hope you will permit me to introduce my party,” Mr Bingley continued, gesturing towards the drawing room where several figures awaited. “My sisters, Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley, along with Mr Hurst. We are also honoured to host dear friends from Derbyshire—Miss Darcy and the Darcy’s ward, young Master Ambrose.”
The introductions proceeded with the expected formalities, though Elizabeth’s assessment of the Bingley sisters proved swift and unfavourable. Both women possessed the sharp elegance that came with considerable expenditure on dress and deportment, yet their smiles held a calculating quality that put her immediately on guard. Their scrutiny of her own modest morning dress did not escape her notice, nor did the subtle exchanges of glances that spoke volumes about their opinion of country society.
Miss Darcy, however, presented an entirely different impression. Perhaps seventeen or eighteen, she possessed a quiet loveliness that required no artifice for enhancement. Her manner was reserved rather than proud, and when she spoke, her voice carried pure benevolence rather than studied politeness.
“Miss Bennet,” she said with a shy smile, “Charles—Mr Bingley—mentioned that your family resides at Longbourn. I understand it is one of the oldest estates in the county.”
“Indeed, though hardly the grandest,” Elizabeth replied, taken by the young woman’s evident sincerity. “Have you travelled far from Derbyshire?”
“Quite a distance, yes. We have come south to assist Mr Bingley in evaluating Netherfield’s suitability,” Miss Darcy explained. “My brother believes a gentleman should understand his property thoroughly before committing to purchase.”
Elizabeth was about to respond when a small whirlwind burst through the drawing room doors, pursued by a harried-looking nursemaid. The child—for child he clearly was, despite his determined stride—possessed dark curls and bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief.
“Georgiana!” he announced with the clear authority of a five-year-old accustomed to attention. “I have escaped Miss Francesca entirely, and I refuse to practice my letters for another moment!”
Miss Darcy—Georgiana—rose gracefully, though Elizabeth detected fond exasperation in her expression. “Ambrose, you know perfectly well that young gentlemen must complete their studies before recreation.”
The boy considered this pronouncement with the gravity of a judge weighing evidence. “But the sun is shining, and there are gardens to explore, and Miss Francesca said I might ride my pony if I was very good indeed.”
